


Start of an Age

by Pawprinter



Series: Paint me in Trust [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Gryffindor Bellamy Blake, Ice Skating, Minor John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Sick Character, Sickfic, Slytherin Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pawprinter/pseuds/Pawprinter
Summary: Months after the Second Wizarding War ends, Clarke and Bellamy attempt to go on their first date.Unfortunately, they have horrible luck.a sequel to Paint me in Trust
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & John Murphy
Series: Paint me in Trust [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957042
Comments: 42
Kudos: 414





	Start of an Age

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fallingthroughspacex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingthroughspacex/gifts).



> _Happy birthday, Lai! Here's your (kinda) surprise gift!!!!!! I am a big ol’ liar and have been lying to you for the last few weeks about the pmit one-shot. It is, in fact, not a Murven-centric AU of the battle. It is actually a whole ass follow up and check in with our favourite delinquents. Happy birthday, friend. I’m so glad the fandom brought us together. You were a huge part of the pmit writing process and ah! I’d be lost without you._
> 
> ## WE'RE BACK, BITCHES
> 
> This fic is a direct sequel to Paint me in Trust so if you haven't read it yet, go read that first!! This fic might still make sense to you if you don't, but you'll be missing a lot of fun references.
> 
> It's been a few months and I couldn't stay away much longer. A lot of the content in this fic was pulled together from my brainstorming notes from writing Paint me in Trust. (Fun fact: Bellamy and Clarke were supposed to celebrate Valentine's Day by going on a date around chapter 30.) While I had a lot of fun writing this fic, what you see is what you get! This isn't a multi-chaptered fic; it's just a cut little one-shot!
> 
>  **Warnings (spoilers):** this fic includes coarse language, a character getting sick (including brief mention to emesis), some non-descriptive make-out sessions, PTSD, and mention of war. If anyone has any questions regarding these topics in the fic, don't hesitate to reach out and I'll send you more details! (My Tumblr is in the bottom notes.) Also, a less serious warning, but there are spoilers for the movie Titanic in this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: the title is from the song Long Live by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Enjoy x

“I’m bored.”

“I’m well aware.”

Murphy groaned into the counter, where he was dramatically draped. “I’m  _ so  _ fucking bored, Clarke. Put me out of my misery and stun me already.”

Clarke tossed a chunk of peeled banana at his head. “You’re supposed to be  _ helping.  _ Maybe if you actually helped me instead of whining, you wouldn’t be so bored.”

“I’m not whining; I’m just stating the facts.” Murphy grabbed the banana from the counter and bit into it aggressively. “I’m bored — fact.”

“You’re annoying — fact.” 

Despite this back and forth, Clarke had to admit; she was bored too. With the repairs on Diyoza’s house finished and both of them being stuck inside, there weren't many ways they could spend their time. She could only bake so many batches of banana muffins and read so many Muggle books.

Hell, most days, she ended up bugging Murphy just to feel  _ something. _

“We should go out,” he said. “Let’s live a little and blow some of your family fortune on pointless garbage in Hogsmeade. I’ve always wanted to see how high they could stack my ice cream.”

She snorted. “We can’t go there without calling Robards and getting an escort. And need I remind you that the last time we went to Hogsmeade to shop, you ended up punching that guy?

“He deserved it.” Murphy smirked. “You punched him too, Griffin. Don’t play innocent with me. I’ve seen  _ all  _ of you.” He pointed to his forehead, as if she could forget all the times their minds fused together while practicing Legilimency while on the run. “You liked punching that wizard as much as I did.”

“Yeah, well, he was spewing Death Eater propaganda. He deserved more than just a bloody lip.” Clarke spooned the batter forcefully and she bit back the venomous rant she was tempted to launch. The anger she felt wasn’t new or surprising. It was easy to get angry with the world they lived in. “Point is, we’re probably going to end up punching more people if we go shopping.”

Murphy pulled a face. “Yeah, and Potter will have to give us that big long talk about how being vigilantes and taking justice into our hands is a bad idea, and how we need to reintegrate into society and  _ trust  _ him.”

“Fuck him.”

“Yeah, fuck him!” Murphy threw the final bite of banana into his mouth. Somehow, she still managed to understand him between all the food when he spoke next. “You know, my  _ head  _ still hurts from where I  _ whacked  _ it after he stunned me.”

“Well, it wasn’t him. I don’t think. There were a lot of wands and I was more concerned about the castle being blown to pieces, so...”

“It was one of his posse, and I’ll happily hold him responsible. Freaking Gryffindors.” 

“Freaking Gryffindors,” she echoed. 

“I would suggest Diagon Alley instead, but—”

_ But neither of them could return to that place.  _ Not after everything that happened there — Clarke using dark magic for the first time to burn down that shop, all the innocent blood spilled in front of them, all the cuts and bruises they gained under grey cloaks, all the times they fought for their lives on those streets.

It would be a long time until either of them would be able to return to Diagon Alley again.

“Diagon Alley is for losers anyway,” he said. 

As usual, he was determined to lift the heavy weight from both of them, and crossed the kitchen to stand beside her. He dipped his finger into the batter she was spooning out and popped it into his mouth before she could stop him. 

Immediately, he started choking and spit into the sink.

“Good fucking Merlin, that is disgusting.”

It was hard not to laugh at his expression. “I don’t even know what to tell you at this point. What were you expecting? It’s raw muffin batter.”

“Have you not had raw cookie batter? That stuff is  _ the shit.  _ This, on the other hand, is just straight shit.” He glared at the offending batter. “You disgust me.”

Clarke snorted and bumped her hip against his. “Move. I need the oven.”

“Pushy, much, princess?” He grinned to show that he was just teasing and proceeded to move out of the way. “So. Shopping? I almost just died from eating that abomination, and I will happily take a shopping trip as the form of compensation.”

“You’re a gremlin, Murphy.”

“I’m your  _ favourite  _ gremlin.” He grinned sweetly at her. She flipped him off before busying herself with the baking trays. “Don’t pretend otherwise. You gave me your  _ house,  _ and you spend all your free time with me, and you’re my best friend.”

She rolled her eyes at his obvious attempts at buttering her up. “Cute, but you can just go shopping with Raven later. She’s supposed to be going to get groceries and—”

“You and your brilliant brain!” he excitedly clapped his hands. “You’re so smart that you could’ve been a Ravenclaw.”

“You really don’t need to keep complimenting me. It’s getting weird.”

“Fine. You’re no fun.” Murphy excitedly gestured to the hanging grocery list on the cupboards. “But you do have the occasional good idea, I’ll give you that much.  _ We _ should go shopping.”

“I heard you the first five times—”

_ “Grocery  _ shopping.” The more he spoke, the more sure he became. “We won’t have to deal with calling Robards to go to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley because we can just go to Muggle London and it’ll be  _ fun.  _ Plus, no blood purist assholes to punch there.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “I don’t know…”

“What do you mean, Griffin? Where’s your can-do attitude that you always used to annoy me with?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Bellamy and Raven should be home soon, and we don’t know Muggle London as well as they do, so—”

Murphy scoffed. “We survived on our own for weeks in Muggle London! I navigated our way through London based solely off knowledge in  _ movies,  _ Clarke.  _ Movies.  _ Actually, I navigated  _ my  _ way through London and dragged your unconscious body with me, but, details.”

“I’m honestly still impressed by that.”

“Me too. I’ll leverage that accomplishment with me until the day I die.” Murphy leaned against the corner and waved the shopping list around. “We can  _ do this _ — easy. We don’t need Reyes or Blake because we’re smart, and we’re capable, and we’re independent!  _ We’re so independent, Clarke.” _

It was tempting.

_ So freaking tempting. _

She hated being trapped in Griffin Manor. While it wasn’t exactly like the time they spent on the run during the war, where they were forced to stay isolated in safe houses and out of sight, the state of reality had faint echoes of that. 

One thing people didn’t tell her was the fact that the world didn’t become perfect overnight. She should’ve expected as much; it was only logical that winning the final battle wouldn’t change generations’ worth of prejudice and harm, but it still sucked.

The battle might’ve been won and the war might’ve been over, but, was it really?

Textbooks would mark the end of the war as May 2, 1998, but  _ was that right? _ Minds weren’t changed just because Voldemort died; after all, Voldemort gained his power from the people that followed him. Just because he was gone didn’t mean those followers were too — it didn’t mean those followers suddenly saw how horrible and backwards they were.

Kingsley was slowly making progress as the Minister of Magic, but it wasn’t enough to change the world all at once. It helped that a lot of their old classmates had joined the Aurors to track down slippery Death Eaters.

_ The same Death Eaters that would happily kill either of them on sight if they showed their faces at Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. _

Apparently, providing intel to the Order about Death Eater families they grew up with caused a lot of sore feelings.

(And attempted murders.)

After testifying against Death Eaters during trials countless times and publicly going against their upbringing, they became popular targets to the remaining blood purists lurking in dark shadows.

Clarke knew that they weren’t the only people being targeted, nor were they the ones getting it the worst. And, regardless of everything that followed the war, she would never regret the decision she made to get to the point she was at. She’d happily betray her family and other Pureblood families a thousand times over.

Clarke and Murphy wanted to see another day though, so they were stuck inside a building with more protective wards than she could remember until the trials concluded and things calmed down. They desperately avoided going to any Wizarding communities because that involved contacting the Aurors, and getting a protection detail sent out, and it was a mess.

They were happy enough to fill their days with plans for their safe house and other very important things.

Like banana muffins. Those were  _ very  _ important.

“How hard can it be?” Murphy pressed, sensing that she was close to caving. “We’ve done it before. And how cute would it be if Raven and Bellamy get off work to a fully stocked kitchen. Wife me up right now, Griffin, because that sounds like some good housekeeping right there. The public would  _ love  _ you if you put a ring on it.”

“Salazar, don’t talk to me about marriage,” Clarke groaned, thinking back to the trash Rita Skeeter column from earlier that week, where news of her apparent engagement to Murphy was plastered for the world to see. “I’m almost ninety percent certain she got the idea that we’re together because of you and your horrible jokes.”

“My jokes are great, thank you very much.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny, Murphy. I’m so glad I live with you.” Murphy gave her a dirty look and she grinned.

Neither of them mentioned how it was very clear and obvious the recent public perception of them did  _ not  _ stem from Murphy’s bad jokes. 

Clarke didn’t want to talk about her mother today or any day, and she especially didn’t want to talk about the trial she was put on. She could still remember the way her stomach absolutely plummeted when her mother talked about her confrontation with Clarke and Murphy in Diagon Alley, including details about their apparent romantic relationship.

That woman would’ve done anything to get the press off her back, including throwing them a bone about her daughter. 

“You know what?” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Murphy’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re serious? Don’t fuck with me, Griffin. I’m sensitive.”

“Bullshit.” Clarke grabbed the shopping list from his hands, her mind already made up. “But I’m not kidding around.” 

He looked unconvinced. “What happened to ‘go with Raven,’ and—”

“Screw it! I mean… Bellamy and Raven are at work all day, and we’re just  _ sitting _ around. I’m sure we can handle grocery shopping at Tesco.”

“Yeah!!” Murphy agreed. “We can do this!! It’s not going to be that hard!!”

“We’re strong, independent, and  _ smart  _ people! How hard can it be?”

.

Clarke should’ve realized her mistake there. 

It was a well-known fact that when her and Murphy were alone together, they had bad ideas; like flour fights, and becoming vigilantes, and showing up to the Battle of Hogwarts in denim.

_ This time was no exception. _

As soon as they arrived at their favourite Tesco, Murphy abandoned the shopping list altogether. “How good can it be? She didn’t even have Lucky Charms written down! They’re magically delicious, Clarke.  _ Magically.  _ We need a dozen of them.”

To keep up the tradition, Clarke ran over the toes of a few Muggles while she attempted to drive the cart. Murphy also scowled at the denim display, but circled back ten minutes later to add another pair of overalls to the basket.

Unlike last time they were in the Muggle world, there wasn’t a crushing weight on them. Clarke remembered how she felt like she was drowning underwater both trips to Tesco. Both times, she’d been on the run, and scared for her friends, and constantly glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed, and she was overwhelmed by all things Muggle. It was suffocating and exhausting. 

_ Then again, she felt suffocated and exhausted for the whole year. _

The weight had been slowly lifting now that the war was over. She wasn’t free yet — she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be free after all that she did to survive — but she was getting there.

Each day, it became a little easier to breathe, and that was what mattered.

Their day shopping was almost exactly what she needed. Murphy was ridiculous and they were both clueless, but it was  _ fun.  _ She didn’t have to worry about people trying to murder them, they didn’t have to pretend Aurors weren’t right behind them, and they didn’t have to avoid curious eyes trying to figure out if Skeeter was telling the truth or not.

“Look! A special edition!” Murphy lifted up a jug of milk and pointed to the label excitedly. “What the fuck does non-homogenized mean?”

She studied the container closely. “No clue, but milk is milk, right?”

.

Wrong.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to cry over spilt milk?” Bellamy asked teasingly. Raven glared at him and shoved her bowl of Lucky Charms in his direction.

“Be my guest, Blake, but I’m not eating  _ chunky milk  _ for dinner.”

“You’re wasting cereal,” Murphy complained. “It’s fiiiiiine. Just pick out the marshmallows from between the chunks.”

“That is disgusting. I’m sorry.” Clarke peered into the bowl and fought a frown. “Milk is  _ not  _ supposed to be chunky like that, right? I once had milk like this while on the run with Murphy and  _ it wasn’t good. At all.” _

“Yeah, you were in the bathroom for like three hours after that.”

“Thanks, Murphy, I appreciate the reminder.”

Bellamy was the one to take the bowl of cereal from where it lay abandoned on the counter. Clarke cringed as he picked one of the milk chunks out and tossed it in his mouth.

“That’s disturbing.”

“They’re good! Hey,” Bellamy took another bite of cereal, “this is the type of milk my mom would get O and me growing up. It’s  _ good.  _ This is just cream. It’s nothing disgusting like your rancid milk.”

“Ew. Please never say rancid in my presence again.” Murphy shivered. “It’s up there with moist and discharge of ‘most uncomfortable words I’ve heard in my short life.’”

“Please never say _ ‘rancid moist discharge’ _ in the same sentence again.” Raven moved to the pantry. “Let’s see… eleven unopened boxes of Lucky Charms, one jug of chunky milk, a carton of extra-large double yolk eggs, pasta in the form of ziti, a half dozen chocolate bars, three bags of gummy bears, and margarine instead of olive oil. I don’t understand that last one, but—”

“I read that you can substitute olive oil for butter in recipes, and the fake butter container said that it’s a butter substitute.  _ Logically,  _ by extension, fake butter and olive oil are the same thing then!”

Raven stared at Murphy like he sprouted a second head. “No. No, not logically.” Her expression softened. “John, you know I love you, but margarine and olive oil are  _ not  _ the same thing. And non-homogenized milk  _ is  _ very different from the one-percent that you’re used to.”

“Well, we always knew you were the brains of the operation. No thoughts up here.” He tapped his temple. “Anyway, I guesstimated my overall size and they fit  _ perfectly,  _ so I’m going to call this trip a success!”

“And we only got lost six times,” Clarke supplied. “Overall, very successful.”

“You bought the store’s stock of Lucky Charms, love, of course you’d think it’s successful.” Bellamy pressed a swift kiss to the top of her head, leaving her beaming.

Murphy pouted at Raven. “Why don’t you call me ‘love’ and kiss me on my head?”

“Because they already coined the gushy love in this house. There can’t be two of us.” Raven blew him a kiss and he batted it away. “And you also do that.”

Clarke took in the mess of the pantry and fridge. “Sorry for,” she gestured vaguely to the kitchen, “all of this. I know you said you were going tonight, but Murphy and I were bored to death, and we didn’t need to call Robards if we just stuck to Muggle locations. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What are you talking about?” Murphy asked. “It still  _ is  _ a great idea. And now we know how to get home if we ever end up in Shepherd's Bush again.”

“Bush,” Raven echoed. “Now  _ that’s  _ a word I hate.”

“What’s wrong with the word bush? It's a perfectly legitimate English word.”

“I could say the same thing about rancid!”

As Murphy and Raven continued to debate back and forth and Bellamy ate the offending bowl of Lucky Charms, Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Maybe they were chaotic and messy, but she  _ loved  _ the three around her. Despite the lingering darkness in the world,  _ they  _ made everything worth it.

Bellamy caught her eye and grinned at her. “You know, we should do this sometime.”

Clarke’s nose wrinkled. “By this,’ are you referring to eating chunky milk?”

“No.” He tossed a clover marshmallow into his mouth and smirked. The intensity behind his gaze made Clarke’s throat tighten the slightest bit. “I mean go out.”

“Go out?”

“You know. On a date.”

Clarke gasped dramatically. He looked amused at her antics. “Is the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain asking me on a date? What would my fiancé say?”

“Your fiancé would say that he’s a fucking fantastic guy and that you should do it.”

“Modest, are we?”

“Always.” He continued to eat his cereal. “I’m serious though. We haven’t really gone on  _ dates _ before.”

She grew silent and realized just how true that was. They never really dated — not the way that most people dated during her time at Hogwarts, anyway. 

Their first kiss was tainted by exhaustion, explosions, murder, and blood. Their first time was in a tent they lived in while on the run. Instead of dancing at the Yule Ball, they danced in the woods with protective wards all around them. They were willing to die for each other before either of them said  _ I love you.  _ They talked about children and marriage and the future before they got their first jobs in the real world because it was what kept them hoping and  _ breathing.  _

And, between all of that, they never went on dates.

There was never any time, never any space, never any opportunities. 

“It would be nice to get out of the manor together.” Bellamy cast a long look towards Murphy and Raven, who were now chasing each other around the kitchen.  _ “Alone.” _

Clarke had to admit; it had been a while since it was just the two of them. They had less than a dozen of moments outside of the manor without someone tagging along — and that was including the time they were on the run and living in the woods together.

“And since you two found a loophole by going to Muggle London…” Bellamy wrapped his arms around her and grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

Their kiss was slow and sweet, causing her toes to curl and something to settle in her chest. Being with him made everything feel  _ right.  _ His lips on hers caused it all to fade away — the stress of the Death Eater trials, the Aurors watching them, the tense rebuilding on the world they lived in. There was something so  _ safe  _ about Bellamy’s arms.

“Mm,” she mumbled, barely pulling away from the kiss. “Are you asking me on a  _ Muggle  _ date?”

“It’s not much different than Wizarding dates, I’m assuming.”

“Minus the magic, obviously.”

“You’re calling what we have  _ not  _ magical? What about  _ Muggle  _ magic, Clarke?”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And you  _ love me _ for it.” He pecked her lips a final time before pulling away from her completely. “What do you say, Griffin? Just the two of us on the town?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Let’s do it. Just us and whatever the Muggle world has to offer.”

* * *

_ —and Murphy, and Raven, and Octavia. _

The night sky was lit up by thousands of tiny lights, all of different colours and all flashing at different intervals. She could barely hear herself think past all the screaming and the eerie music. The sheer amount of energy and brightness of it all reminded her of Piccadilly Circus, with the moving advertisements on the sides of buildings and organized chaos of all the people.

Clarke’s grip tightened on Bellamy’s hand as they weaved through the crowd, not wanting to lose hold of him. It had nearly been a year since she first visited Muggle London, and she hadn’t been this  _ scared  _ and  _ overwhelmed  _ by the Muggle world until this moment.

From the movies she watched over the last few months, Clarke knew what this event was called.  _ A carnival.  _ The machines gave it away; they were throwing people around, tossing them in the air on cords, sending them flying in metal carriages, spinning them in circles on wire seats. It looked  _ dangerous  _ and terrifying.

They stood in line for one of the machines — one that Raven called  _ tame.  _ What the  _ absolute fuck  _ was so tame about metal boxes suspended around a giant metal ring that rotated? That didn’t seem tame at all. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asked. His gaze swept along her expression quickly before meeting her eyes again. “You look off.”

“There’s just a lot going on.” She narrowed her eyes at the machine they were in line for. “Is this thing safe?”

He laughed at this and pulled her flush against his side. She melted here easily and sucked in several calming breaths. She didn’t realize just how stressed she was until that moment.

“It’s safe,” he promised her. “It’s called a Ferris wheel. You get loaded onto one of the carts and the ride operator lets you ride up to the top and down again.”

“No, I get the premise.” She watched as people on the top threw their arms in the air and screamed. She hoped those were screams of delight and not terror. “I just can’t see how it’s safe.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re scared,” he teased.

“It  _ is  _ scary! I  _ am  _ scared! Bloody Gryffindors.” 

He laughed and lowered his mouth to her ear. Hot breath washed across her skin, chasing away the chill of the August air. “Clarke,” he breathed, “you fly a magic broom at neck breaking speeds. You punched a sociopath in the mouth. You can make things levitate without a wand. You’re a  _ witch—” _

Clarke rested her head against his for a brief moment, allowing the tide of warmth rising in her stomach to wash over her. “This is different,” she pointed out. “It’s like cars, Bell. You’re not in control, and you have to trust all these other people that don’t even know you, and you have to hope someone doesn’t make a mistake or it isn’t just  _ their  _ life on the line, but yours too.” She gestured to the Ferris wheel in front of them. “You’re relying on metal poles and wires to keep from falling to your death!” She cringed. “And look! One of the wires is  _ loose.  _ I swear I saw it  _ move  _ and—”

He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. She felt his smile against her skin. “It’s fine, Clarke. Muggles do this all the time. Hardly anyone dies.”

“Wait.” She pulled away from him, her eyes widened with horror. “Hardly!?  _ ‘Hardly  _ anyone dies?’ That’s what you said! Is this a  _ joke  _ because—”

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She knew he was genuine; the crease between his brow and the comforting swoop of his thumb against the back of her hand said it all. Plus, it was  _ Bellamy.  _ He cared about everyone with his whole heart — being willing to abandon something he was  _ clearly  _ excited about just because she was worried was in his nature.

“We’re doing this,” she told him firmly. “I just can’t promise I won’t be holding onto my wand the whole time.”

The smile that followed was so wide that it reminded her of sunshine.

_ Merlin,  _ he was so excited about this. Ever since Octavia mentioned an annual carnival in the small town they grew up in, he hadn’t stopped talking about it. Originally, they planned to go to it alone as one of their dates, but Octavia asked to tag along, and not long after that, Murphy and Raven were coming too.

She couldn’t pretend what it was like to be a Muggleborn or a half-blood; to be raised in an entirely different world for the first eleven years of their life, and then being expected to  _ give it up when they started attending Hogwarts?  _ It didn’t make sense. She would’ve felt like a horrible person for asking Octavia, Murphy and Raven to not crash their date.

And, yeah, even though the Ferris wheel and the other machines looked like they would kill her if someone breathed on them wrong — and even though she’d bumped into dozens of  _ sweaty  _ people in the short time they’d been there — and even though she was scared out of her mind, she was going to do it for him.

There was another terrifying thing at the carnival —  _ the clowns.  _ At least, she  _ thought  _ they were clowns; they didn’t quite look like what Stephen King described, but that was probably a good thing considering his books usually began and ended with death. 

As if he could read her mind, Murphy slid up beside her. His gaze settled on the clown across the path from them. They didn’t look particularly malicious — they were attempting to twist a balloon into a shape — but she learned early on not to trust appearances. 

“This is the part where we get murdered, right?” Murphy nudged her side. “Just think; we survive our murderous families and a war, just to be killed by  _ that.” _

The balloon popped in the face of a waiting child. Tears and screams followed. The clown mirrored the child and pretended to cry.

Murphy pulled a face. “Terrifying.”

“You’re scared too?” Bellamy teased, glancing at him over her head. “Aw, come on. This is the warmup ride!”

“So Raven told me.”

Raven broke from her conversation with Octavia about a Quidditch athlete and turned to them. “You’re scared of  _ this?  _ Murphy, weren’t you the one to leap over the edge of the astronomy tower and land on your broom storeys below, just to prove a point?”

“Yeah; that point being how unsafe that tower is! I told them that the railings were too low and, look, Dumbledore got murdered up there.”

Octavia choked at that. “How does—  _ what?  _ How does Professor Dumbledore dying have anything to do with what you just said?”

“Keep up, little Blake. He  _ fell over the edge of the railing  _ and plummeted to his death.”

She blinked blankly. “He died because he was hit with the Killing Curse, not because he fell over the edge.”

“He was dead when he fell; that means he couldn’t climb over the railing. He just  _ fell backwards….  _ and then fell over the edge and to the ground. Thus, the railing is too short. If a dead guy can scale it, so could any first-year. It’s dangerous. Hell, didn’t Potter use that tower to sell a dragon into the black market?”

Octavia continued to stare at him. “This conversation is a dumpster fire.”

“Thank you, I try really hard at that.” He turned back to Raven. “Besides, that was different. I knew the broom was right there.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how you lived this long, Murphy.”

“Cockroaches never die.” He looked to Clarke for back up. “Right! Slytherins are a tough crew.”

Raven still wasn’t having it. “Your broom is a single stick of wood that hovers in mid-air. What if you missed?”

“I never miss.”

“Well,” Clarke jumped in, “you do. Remember that time, the summer of Malfoy’s eighth birthday—”

“That was  _ one time,  _ Clarke.”

“Or what about when Goyle wanted you to steal the cakes at the feast from the upper years, and you accidentally ended up spilling pumpkin juice  _ all over them  _ because — that’s right — you missed.”

“Alright, it’s  _ very rare,  _ but it does happen.”

“And what about—”

“You’re no help. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Raven threw her arm around her shoulders. “Mine,  _ obviously.  _ Us witches have to stick together. Right, Octavia?”

“No,” Murphy jumped in. “Octavia, you’re rebellious and fun and have that pesky Gryffindor courage.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You would’ve done the same thing, right? Or are you boring like your brother.”

Bellamy, who had been staying out of the conversation, let out a huff of indignation. “I wasn’t boring when I saved your ass and put out the fire in the kitchen the other day, was I?”

Clarke happily watched her group of friends bicker back and forth. She never knew how much fun these little arguments could be. With her old friends back at Hogwarts before the war, arguments like this were the cause of tense feelings, traded hexes, and house divisions. She actively tried to keep her head down and stay out of the way whenever that would happen, otherwise she risked the wrath of Pansy or Malfoy. 

Before meeting these people —  _ people who she loved with everything in her —  _ she didn’t know how these moments didn’t have to be serious or end in tears — she didn’t know that there didn’t have to be a winner and a loser — she didn’t know that the argument was made for the hell of it and not because there was ever actually an issue.

Because, even after they’d all changed subjects, they all still were smiling. 

Clarke always used to wonder what it would feel like to have a normal family.

She imagined it wouldn’t be much different than this.

Bellamy leaned down to whisper in her ear as Raven, Murphy and Octavia continued to trade comments. “So much for our date, huh?”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t classify this as us being alone, but it’s nice.”

“I was hoping to sneak away with you at some point, but I think Murphy will think we were kidnapped by clowns if we do.”

She laughed at a memory. “Merlin, remember when he caught us at Diyoza’s?”

“What, in the bathroom?”

_ “Yes.” _

Bellamy muffled his laugh against her shoulder. “I would’ve given anything to see his face.”

“I’ve seen it,” she told him. “When we were practicing Legilimency, he might’ve seen something he shouldn’t have and,  _ Bell,  _ the face he made when he jolted back to his own mind?” She snickered. “Priceless. Pure horror and disgust. I think he said it was like watching his parents.”

He reached over Clarke to rub Murphy’s head. “Didn’t know you thought so highly of me, squirt. Going to get me a Best Dad in the Universe mug for Christmas?”

“Get your sweaty hands away from my head.” Murphy dodged Bellamy’s further attempts to pat him. “And,  _ no.  _ We hate each other, Blake. That’s kinda our whole thing.”

“Riiiiight,” Bellamy agreed, smirking. “We ‘hate’ each other.”

_ “I _ hate you.”

“It’s one-sided then.”

Octavia lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t hating everyone kind of your thing, Murphy?”

“Only the Gryffindors. I have a soft spot for disowned Slytherins and beautiful Ravenclaws though.” 

“You just don’t know him well enough, O,” Bellamy explained. “His love language is insults and aggression.”

They stared at each other. “I really do hate you.”

“Sure you do.”

.

The Ferris wheel was terrifying. She couldn’t remember riding a broom for the first time because she was so young, but Clarke imagined Muggleborns must’ve felt like this during their first try.

Her knuckles were white, she was gripping the side of the metal container so tightly. Bellamy sat beside her, with Octavia on his other side, and Murphy and Raven across from them. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, providing the slightest bit of comfort as they rose higher into the sky.

Her heart was tattooing a pattern into her ribs. The loud noises of the carnival below them seemed so far away. Her palms grew slick and her legs grew weak.

“Pretend like you’re riding a broom,” Octavia suggested when she noticed how stiff she was.

“Don’t patronize her, Blake,” Murphy said. “This is nothing like riding a broom.”

“Fuck,  _ John.  _ I’m just trying to help.”

“Try calling me that again,  _ Octavia,  _ and let’s see what happens.”

“You’re much more tolerable when you—”

They continued to go at each other the rest of the way up. Clarke was happy to drown them out with the loud rushing of her blood and the solid beat of her heart.

When they were at the peak of the wheel, she closed her eyes and gripped her wand a little tighter. 

She hated Ferris wheels.

She hated carnivals.

She hated this.

_ And then… she didn’t. _

It was on the third loop around the wheel that Clarke’s grip slowly began to relax. Her wand never left her hand, but she managed to open her eyes and drink in the world around her.

Sure, maybe it felt like she was on a boat in the sky, and maybe it felt like she was going to get sick at any second, but—

_ —it was kind of beautiful. _

From up at the top of the wheel, it was  _ almost  _ like riding a broom.

(A broom that she didn’t have any control of and was relying on metal cords that  _ hardly  _ killed people, but it was a broom nonetheless.)

With the sun having set long ago and the sky being free of clouds, it felt like the world was infinite. If Bellamy’s arm wasn’t around her shoulders, and Raven and Murphy weren’t laughing only a foot across from them, she might’ve been able to convince herself that she was walking amongst the stars.

From this height, the chaos of the carnival looked beautiful. All the lights and all the people — it looked like a different world.

She blew out a shaky breath.

“Right?” Bellamy asked, his lips beside her ear again and his chin resting on her shoulder. It was quiet at the top, but he still whispered right against her neck. “Through the looking glass.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Just… the world is so much more than what we know. It’s moments like these that remind me of that.” 

“I love it when you’re deep.” 

He placed a sloppy kiss to her neck and grinned cheekily at her. “Do you, Griffin, because—”

Raven let out a loud laugh and the private moment was broken. Somehow, the other three managed to sneak mini-donuts onto the ride and were tossing them back and forth.

Clarke watched them for a beat. “That’s got to be against the rules, right?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Octavia whipped a donut so hard at Murphy’s head that it ricocheted over the edge of the cart. He doubled over like he was punched in the gut.

“You know,” she whispered, “there’s a chance that Murphy and Octavia are probably going to kill each other soon.”

Bellamy hid his laugh in her hair. “Maybe Murphy’s fear of dying at a carnival will come true after all.”

“You’re horrible.”

“What happened to me being amazing and you loving me  _ soooo much?” _

Clarke shifted to smile up at him. “You are amazing, and I do love you so much, and you  _ are  _ horrible for making me laugh at Murphy’s imminent death. You can be all three at once.”

The next donut to fly hit Clarke in the ear, sending a shower of sugar across both their faces. 

_ And, just like that, the magic of the moment was broken. _

Bellamy and Clarke broke apart and the cart erupted in various conversations and flying donuts. When their cart reached the bottom of the wheel, they were all sticky from sugar and red in the cheeks from uncontrolled laughter.

Maybe it wasn’t the date that they planned, but Clarke wouldn’t want it any other way.

* * *

All it took was for Clarke to mention where she was going, and their second attempt at a date went up in flames.

As soon as Bellamy appeared in the fireplace of Griffin Manor, Clarke shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry!”

He lifted an eyebrow and tossed his cloak onto the chair. “Sorry? About what?”

Always the one for perfect timing and dramatic entrances, Murphy chose that moment to burst into the sitting room wearing a jumper over his pair of overalls. 

“Movie time, bitches!”

A look of understanding passed over Bellamy.

“I told Murphy why I wanted to borrow his Muggle jumper,” Clarke said, shooting Murphy a dirty look — a look that he pointedly ignored, “and he wanted to know why I was wearing Muggle clothing.”

“Clarke didn’t even have to sell it. It sells itself; snacks, a movie theatre, a Muggle movie,  _ a Muggle movie about magic.  _ Practical magic too, apparently, so that’s useful. I’m coming.” He twirled his wand in his hands eagerly. “Movie starts at seven, doesn’t it? We’re leaving soon, right?”

Bellamy and Clarke looked at each other for a long moment. She didn’t have the heart to tell Murphy no, not when he was already so excited to do something with them, and not when he would be spending the evening alone if he didn’t tag along. 

She tried to convey this without words. It wasn’t going to kill them to let Murphy tag along, was it? 

Bellamy smirked and gave the slightest inclination of his head.

“I haven’t watched a movie since Diyoza’s,” Murphy continued, oblivious to the silent conversation they were having. “And the last one we tried to watch was  _ Titanic, _ and that didn’t go very well. Car sex ring any bells, Griffin?”

“Hey, at least we won’t know who dies in this one,” she said. “I still can’t believe Raven told us that Jack dies.”

“Rest in peace to Jack Dawson,” he confirmed, his voice sombre. “I still think there would’ve been enough room for him on that piece of wood. They both could’ve lived.”

“And what does Raven say?” Bellamy pressed. “She’s from the ‘smart person house,’ after all.”

“She doesn’t think it would’ve worked, but I have eyes, thank you very much.” Murphy gestured vaguely to Bellamy. “Now, go put on something more presentable. We’re going to see a movie about magic; we have to blend in.” He turned to Clarke. “What do you think? You think someone leaked all our secrets and we’re being exploited for some Hollywood fame?”

“I think this movie’s going to be as accurate as our textbooks are on Muggles,” she said. “No way they know the truth about us. Not possible.”

“Yeah, but they’re talking about  _ magic,  _ Clarke. Her sister is a witch, right? And what was  _ her  _ sister? Also a witch!  _ They’re sisters with magic!  _ It has to be accurate. They’re already accurate because they’re calling them  _ witches  _ and—”

.

Murphy did not grasp the concept of not talking in theatres. 

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

Clarke was tempted to whip out her wand and cast a silencing charm on him right then and there.

“For the twelfth time,” she hissed,  _ “whisper.” _

“Fine! Merlin.” Their heads knocked when they moved closer together and she swore. “I don’t  _ fucking  _ understand.”

She didn’t really want to admit she didn’t know what was going on either, so she simply gave him a firm look. “I’ve gathered as much.”

“Can you ask Bellamy if they use wands? Or are they just really skilled and can do wandless magic?  _ And  _ nonverbal magic?”

She had to admit, these questions were ones she was wondering herself.

Clarke leaned to her other side and gestured for Bellamy to meet her in the middle. “Murphy’s wondering about the magic in the movie. We haven’t seen a wand or heard a spell yet, but—”

“Tell him it’s just for show. It’s fake. Made by Muggles.”

She hesitated. “So… what? This is what Muggles think we go to Hogwarts for?”

“They don’t know we go to Hogwarts. The International—”

“I know the secrecy laws. I just don’t get it.” Murphy poked Clarke’s arm impatiently and she batted him away. “Explain again.”

“They don’t know anything about magic.”

Clarke relayed this message to Murphy. He gave her a funny look. “But they made a movie about it?”

“It isn’t real,” she promised him. “Like the  _ Titanic.” _

“Raven told me the Titanic was real though.”

“I mean… there was a boat called the Titanic, but the movie wasn’t filmed live. It’s just a Muggle rendition of the events.”

They must not have been whispering as quietly as they thought. Bellamy tugged Clarke back over to his side and whispered another explanation. “This is their best guess — they’re just pretending magic is real. They don’t know the properties of magic, so no wands, no spells, no rules.”

She relayed it to Murphy, who gave her the most confused and offended look she’d seen from him. “But it’s  _ magic.  _ You  _ need  _ a wand. What about— she broke Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration already. How can—”

Before he could finish speaking, there was a rough tap on her shoulder. Clarke jolted and turned around, coming face to face with an annoyed woman. “Can you keep it down?”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! He’s just confused.” She turned back to Murphy and glared. “Can you  _ be quiet?  _ It doesn’t make sense. Just accept it and move on.”

“But what kind of witch doesn’t know—”

The lady cleared her throat from behind them. Clarke clenched her jaw and resisted the urge to glare. 

“Murphy—”

“Fine! Fine!” He sunk further into his seat and glared at the screen. “I’ll just suffer in silence.”

_ “Thank you.”  _

Clarke caught Bellamy’s gaze and gave him an exasperated look. He glanced at the lady behind them and grew amused.

_ ‘She’s mad,’  _ he mouthed, sinking further into his seat.  _ ‘Rightfully so.’ _

Things escalated when the movie threw  _ all laws of magic  _ out the window. When spirits started possessing bodies, Murphy doubled over in laughter. He turned to Clarke, still laughing.

“This shit sucks!”

_ It wasn’t all that surprising when they were escorted out of the theatre by a Muggle worker only minutes later. _

Outside the theatre, Murphy looked back and forth between Clarke and Bellamy, clearly at a loss for words. The neon lights from the movie theatre against Murphy’s skin reminded her of flashes of spells. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her thoughts from spiralling.

“Do I even  _ need  _ to list all the things wrong with that? No wands, no spells, no  _ school,  _ no secrecy?? Possessions, one ingredient potions, exorcisms? I am both confused and offended.”

Bellamy began to lead them up the street, back towards the Leaky Cauldron. “And now we’re banned from the movies.”

“And we don’t know how it ends.” Clarke briefly considered being annoyed with Murphy, but she had to agree with him. It was pretty confusing. That — whatever that was — wasn’t magic, despite them trying to pass it off as such. It was hard to wrap her head around it. “I’d give the night a solid three out of five stars. The popcorn was good.”

“I’m not a fan of sitting in a dark room with a bunch of strangers,” Murphy disagreed. “It’s weird and gross. How many butts touched that chair? How many hormonal teenagers—”

“I don’t need the image.” Bellamy pulled a face. “Next time, remind me not to invite you on a movie date.” He locked eyes with Clarke and smirked. “Oh wait…”

_ They didn’t.  _

_ He invited himself along. _

They laughed together at the joke, while Murphy remained oblivious.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, walking a few paces in front of them. He tugged uncomfortably on his pant leg. “I’m never returning to a Muggle theatre, especially not in denim. I swear this is glued to my butt.”

“You’re just full of pretty pictures tonight, aren’t you, Murphy?” Bellamy asked.

“Go ahead and call me an artist.”

Bellamy grinned down at Clarke and slowed to take her hand. Butterflies filled her stomach as their palms moved flush together. Murphy continued to walk in front of them, still pulling at his overalls and complaining.

She locked eyes with Bellamy. “Tonight didn’t go as planned.”

“Never does, does it?” His expression made it clear he wasn’t resentful over this fact. She knew he loved Murphy as much as she did, even if he tried to pretend otherwise. “One of these days, it’s just going to be you and me, love. Promise.”

“I plan on holding you to that.”

They moved together and shared a slow kiss, causing  _ more  _ butterflies to rise in Clarke’s gut. She doubted she’d ever grow tired of kissing him, and loving him, and—

“And  _ I’m _ the one painting pretty images tonight?” Murphy pulled a face at them. “Please. You two are so in love that it disgusts me. Talk about hormonal teenagers. Sweet Salazar.”

Clarke and Bellamy shared an amused look.

_ Yeah.  _ She doubted she’d ever grow tired of this.

* * *

“Bellamy took the news alright?”

Clarke blew out a long breath. “I mean, he’s disappointed of course, but he’s happy that you’re happy.”

Octavia’s face split into a wide grin at that. While her expressions weren’t as clear and easy to read as they would’ve been in person, it would’ve been impossible to miss the relief and joy she radiated in that moment.

“I knew he would take the news better from you.” The fire crackled at the same time as she laughed. Clarke dodged the embers that shot out from the fire. “I love him, but it’s  _ Christmas,  _ and they’re really trying to make the one at the castle this year be really fun because of everything that happened last year.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And how is it? To be back after everything? Your brother worries about you.”

“He always worries about me. I worry about him too. It’s dangerous for him to be out there right now.”

Clarke’s stomach tightened the slightest bit at that. She didn’t want to worry Octavia, but she worried about Bellamy too. While her and Murphy were inside the property wards of Griffin Manor all day, both he and Raven were exposed and vulnerable while at work. 

“He’s with Raven and Angelina. They’ll all watch each other's backs.” 

It wasn’t the line of work Bellamy wanted to be doing by far, but the  _ Prophet  _ paid good and he got to be with friends all day. It was the best option, all things considered.

Octavia’s smile softened. “Being back at Hogwarts is nice though, especially now Death Eaters aren’t crawling around here.”

As if on cue, Clarke’s jaw twinged with pain from where Octavia’s knuckles connected last Christmas.

“Busting less faces than last year?” 

“Unfortunately, I have to find other ways to get my anger out, or so McGonagall says.” The youngest Blake looked amused. “Which is how I convinced her to bring the dueling club back. A few hints here and there never hurt anybody.”

“You should’ve been a Slytherin,” she teased. “And other than that? Bellamy worried that being back in the castle after all the horrible things that happened would be a lot.”

“It is. But, from the ashes, right?”

Clarke snorted. Her and Murphy were never going to live that one down. “From the ashes.” 

She glanced behind herself, in the direction of Kane’s textbook.  _ Well,  _ not  _ really Kane’s textbook.  _ That exact copy, with all the worn corners and filled with his loopy handwriting, had been destroyed when Diyoza’s safe house fell. The copy that now rested on her coffee table was one on loan from McGonagall.

“And how’s studying for your N.E.W.T. exams going?” Clarke asked. “Doing better than me, I’m guessing.”

The younger girl laughed. “Are you kidding? You already spent a  _ year  _ studying for them. You can perform Patronus Charms, advanced summoning, and you can do wandless magic.  _ I know this because Bellamy can’t stop talking about how proud of you he is.  _ I think you’re good.”

“I’ve also been out of school for over a year,” Clarke pointed out.

“To fight a war. I think they’re going to forgive you if you can’t remember who the first wizard is to perform a stunner. You’re going to ace it.” She smiled. “And once you do, you’ll tell me exactly which questions to study for the June exam, right?”

“I’m pretty sure the December and the June exams are going to be very different.”

“Still, a little insider information never hurt anyone.” The image of the younger girl in the fireplace flickered for a moment. When she returned, she was looking behind her still. “Listen, Clarke, I gotta go. Lincoln’s waiting for me. Tell Bell I said hi and that I’ll Floo call him this weekend.”

Before she could end the call, Clarke caught her attention. “And what do you think about my idea? It’ll work, right?”

Octavia expression softened. “Yeah, it’ll work, and Bell’s going to love it. Winter’s his favourite season, you know.”

Clarke’s chest grew warm. “I know.”

“Of course you do. Usually, they open in the second week of November; that’s still a week out.”

Clarke nodded with determination, a plan already starting to form. “Okay, you go. Tell Lincoln hi.”

By the time the youngest Blake’s face disappeared from the fireplace, Clarke was already half-way across the room and searching for a quill. She had work to do.

.

They Apparated to an empty portion of the Tower Millennium Pier. The crack announcing their arrival rang out through the otherwise silent night. Before they fully materialized, a sharp gust of wind blew in from the water, whipping her hair across her face. 

“You’re good?” she checked, already peering around a granite column they appeared beside. While she didn’t see any Muggles, she cast a few spells to double check and make sure nobody saw their spontaneous arrival.

“I’m all in one piece.” He watched her perform the spell. “We’re clear?”

“All good.” 

She shoved her wand into her pocket and pulled on her loose winter glove. Bellamy waited for her, nearly bouncing in anticipation. His excitement made her grin.

_ Merlin,  _ she couldn’t stop smiling. All day, she had a silly grin across her face, and it was starting to hurt her cheeks.  _ She was just so happy and excited.  _ Hell, she was beginning to think that she was starting to get sick from just how excited she was.

“You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Not yet. It’s a  _ surprise.”  _ She held out her gloved hand for him to take and, together, they began the short walk to their destination of the evening.

While they walked, she couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye.  _ He looked so good.  _ His hair mostly hidden under a winter hat; all that poked through were the ends of the curls. His cheeks were already flushed a breathtaking red and his lips  _ — Merlin, his lips —  _ they barely poked out from behind his scarf.

She never saw him in winter gear before this year, especially not  _ Muggle  _ winter hear. Of course, at Hogwarts, she saw him in thicker cloaks during Hogsmeade trips, but she never took the time to appreciate just how  _ good  _ he looked.

_ Salazar, she wanted to kiss him. _

He kept glancing around as they walked, examining the stores to their left and the river to their right. It looked as though Bellamy didn’t recognize where they were yet, and Clarke thanked Raven in that moment; without her ingraining the route into her mind, they would’ve already gotten lost.

“So, let’s see,” he began, his breath coming out as a fog in front of him. “We’re in Muggle London.”

“Yep.”

“Along the pier.”

“You got it.”

“And I see Tower Bridge in the distance.” 

“So, you recognize where we are?”

He blew out a long breath. “I do, but I still have no idea what we’re up to.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her hat. “I know I’m going to love it though.”

“Of course you’d say that. I could take you anywhere and you’d like it.”

“Well, we’re out of the house alone. You could take me to freaking Tesco for all I care; I’d count this adventure as a success. Because  _ we’re alone  _ — finally — and we’re here together.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

It was only a few minutes later that the pier disappeared behind them and a castle rose in front. Clarke hadn’t been to this part of Muggle London before, which wasn’t exactly shocking, so it took her a while to absorb everything. 

“It looks like Hogwarts,” she observed. The towers weren’t nearly as high, but the structure had the same weathered and ancient feel as their old school. 

_ And, there, in the middle of the courtyard shone a brilliant blue light, illuminating a huge crowd of Muggles around— _

“Is that...” Bellamy’s steps faltered. “Is that an ice rink?”

Clarke couldn’t contain her joy any longer. She gripped his hand in hers and jostled his body playfully. “Yes! I remember you telling me that your favourite memory was skating on the Black Lake with Octavia and your friends, and  _ I know  _ this isn’t exactly the same, but I wanted to at least  _ try  _ and—”

She was silenced with a kiss.

His bottom lip was cold between hers and it stole the breath from her lungs. Despite the kiss lasting mere seconds, she was speechless and breathless when they parted.

His gloved finger brushed a stray piece of her hair back. “Thank you.” His smile melted her heart. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Of course I did.” A pause, then, “I bet you remember what I told you about back then, too.”

“Mm. Like your favourite thing from Honeydukes?”

_ And messed up childhoods, and Boggarts, and all the people they killed.  _

They were a fun bunch back then; they all scared beyond their wits, and the weight of the world was on their shoulders, and they were never sure what was going to happen the next day, or if they were going to  _ see  _ the next day.

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly. There were a lot of memories that she held with fondness, like growing closer with Raven, and bonding with Murphy, and finding a home with Bellamy, but there was still  _ so much _ darkness and heaviness that she couldn’t think about.

Clarke retook Bellamy’s hand and led them towards the growing crowd in the courtyard. Muggle music played from radios surrounding the ice rink, filling the atmosphere with songs she recognized from last year and a joyful buzz.

Before Bellamy, she didn’t know what ice skating was. It wasn’t a popular activity in the Wizarding world — at least not for purebloods. The idea of putting knives on the bottom of their feet and standing on frozen water wasn’t really appealing, apparently. 

_ But she knew he loved it.  _ She knew winter was his favourite time of the year. And she was going to do this, even if she was scared enough to make her stomach roll and her palms sweat.

She had to admit, Muggles knew how to host an event. There were pieces of the ice skating venue that reminded Clarke of the carnival; the flashing lights, the wafting scent of food, the blasting music, the crowds. There was an infectious buzz around the courtyard, and it immediately drew them in.

_ Merlin,  _ were ice rinks always so hot?

Clarke tugged at her Muggle winter coat as they made their way towards the skate rental booth, suddenly feeling like she was seconds away from melting away. She couldn’t figure it out; her nose was still tingling with the chill of the night and she could still see her breath fog out in front of her, so it couldn’t be  _ that  _ warm, right?

As soon as she bent over, it felt as though she was Apparating again, the world was spinning so much. For a brief moment, she wasn’t too sure if she was going to stay upright or if everything was going to stay in her stomach. She gripped the edge of the bench and squeezed her eyes shut.

_ Shit. _

That couldn’t be good.

Bellamy’s hand was on her back before she could right herself. “You good? You got really quiet.”

She swallowed thickly and willed the world to stop spinning. Clarke hoped that her scarf hid how forced her smile was. “Fine. I’m fine. Just…” She gestured to her feet. “I don’t know how to put skates on.”

He watched her for a moment longer, a crease between his brow and a small frown on his face. Maybe she was more convincing than she felt, because he finally broke their gaze and began explaining how to put on ice skates.

Clarke tugged her hat off her head and battered her flyaways hairs down. Slowly, she sucked in breath after breath, hoping with everything in her that her pulse would settle again.

_ Fuck.  _ She was sick.

She didn’t know how she didn’t realize this before. All day, her stomach felt like it was twisted in knots, but she chalked it up to nerves and excitement. But now it felt like she was going to tip over at any second.

Bellamy’s words slowed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look… not great.”

“Just what I wanted to hear,” she quipped, forcing another smile up. “Finally, we’re on one of our first dates and my fiancé says I look like trash.”

“You look like very  _ cute  _ trash.” His smile faded when she didn’t return it. “I’m kidding, Clarke. If we weren’t in public, I’d  _ very much  _ like to take all these layers off of you and  _ show  _ you how freaking beautiful you are.” The corners of his lips quirked into a smirk. “You know, I think I could find a way into the supply closet back by the entrance.”

“Oh, really?” she laughed. “We’re finally on a date and you’re willing to  _ waste  _ this opportunity.”

“Never. I’m excited to skate with you — really excited, actually.”

It was then that she decided she was going to push through whatever she was feeling. It wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, and he was so excited. And it was like she said; she didn’t want to waste the opportunity of being on a date alone —  _ finally. _

She was fine. She was going to be fine. She could just get sick tomorrow instead.

Bellamy sunk to his knees in front of her and began to help lace up her skates. He glanced up at her briefly, looking cocky and playful. “Maybe this will be my chance to show some Gryffindor superiority in sports since you keep  _ cheating _ in Quidditch.”

“You jerk,” she laughed, kicking him lightly in the side. “I don’t  _ cheat.  _ I’m just  _ creative.  _ Keep up, Blake.” He shook his head fondly. “Also, I’ve never skated before. You’ll be doing loops around me.” She looked out at the crowd moving in circles. “I just… how?”

“You just… stand?” She laughed. “That’s not helpful, I know, but you’ll see. It’s not any harder than walking.”

“You’re on two thin pieces of metal; it  _ has  _ to be harder than walking. How do you not fall over?” 

She watched a small child zoom across the rink. She had to look away before she got motion sickness from it.

_ Keep it together. _

Bellamy’s hand squeezed her leg, signalling to her that her laces were all done. “I won’t leave you if that’s what you’re worried about.” As if to prove he was telling the truth, he reached forward and took her hand tightly in his own. “We’ll be stuck like glue. If you go down, I go down.”

She vowed to herself to  _ keep it fucking together  _ better than she already was. She wasn’t going to ruin one of their only dates in months because she caught a bug.

“How’d you learn how to skate?” she asked as he began tying his own skates.

“My mom taught O and me when we were little. She’d take us to the community rink every weekend and we’d spend  _ hours  _ there. I was a kid and thought I was going so fast that I could fly.” His grin was so childish and giddy that she wished she could capture it forever. “Turns out I  _ can  _ actually fly on a broom, and skating fell out of favour.”

With his laces tied, Bellamy stood and held his hand in her direction. A brief wave of illogical nervousness washed over her.

“We’ll do it together,” he promised her.

She took his hand and braced herself. He hauled her to her feet and—

“Shit!” Clarke stumbled a few steps forward before being caught and steadied by him. She gripped the material of his coat so tight that it made her fingers go numb. His hand hooked under her elbow. “Stop laughing!”

That only made him laugh harder.

_ She had to admit, it was kind of funny. _

“This is not like walking,” she pointed out, her legs shaking beneath her. “How am I—  _ ouch.”  _ Her ankles hurt. This couldn’t be right, could it?

“Widen your stance. I got you.” She did as instructed and spread her feet further apart. Her ankles stopped hurting and the constant feeling of being seconds away from falling slowly faded. “Good. See? It’s not hard.”

“I’m only upright because of you,” she pointed out.

Clarke glanced out at the ice; it was only a few feet away from them, yet it felt miles now that she knew she could barely stand.

“It’s easier when you start moving,” he assured her.

“You’re not going to let go of me, are you?”

“Like a toddler learning how to ride a bike?”

“I don't know what that is.”

“Right. No, I’m not letting go.” 

Bellamy gazed at her for a long moment, his expression hard to read. He looked like he was gazing at something more ethereal than just  _ her. _

“What?”

“Nothing. Just appreciating the view.”

She snorted. “Appreciate  _ this  _ view,” she said, gesturing to the skating rink and castle around them. “You get to look at me every day.”

“Every  _ day,  _ and every  _ night,  _ and all the moments in between.” He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, but pulled back abruptly. “Damn. You’re hot.”

“We’ve established this, Bell—”

“No, I mean you’re  _ burning.”  _ He slipped off his glove and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. His frown deepened. “Are you feeling alright? You have a fever.”

Clarke was many things and stubborn was one of them.

_ She lied. _

“It’s just the hat,” she told him. “I’m fine. I’m  _ more  _ than fine; I’m excited to skate circles around you.”

_ That  _ managed to pull Bellamy from his concern. He let out a sharp bark of laughter and pulled on his glove. “Princess, you can barely stand.”

“I thought you said it’s easier once I’m moving?” She tugged on his grip, urging him forward. “Come  _ on,  _ let’s test your theory.”

They moved, inch by inch, towards the ice, and Clarke grew more and more nervous. She knew there was nothing to be nervous about, but she really didn’t want to fall because she had wiped out in winter before and that  _ sucked.  _ She had a bruise on her ass for  _ weeks. _

Bellamy stepped out onto the ice, still not letting go of her arm. He didn’t even  _ wobble.  _ In fact, he looked completely in his element. Meanwhile, she was tilting from side to side, like a child taking their first steps.

For a moment, Clarke felt as though she was already falling, she felt so dizzy. People whizzed past them so quickly that it made her head spin, and her stomach twist, and—

_ Fuck. _

“The first step will be the hardest,” he told her. “Once both your feet are on the ice, you’ll be good though, okay? Just… move towards me and you’ll be fine.”

Clarke swallowed thickly and tried to smile, but faltered.

_ This was it.  _

_ This was how she was going to die.  _

_ Not from evil wizards or hazardous carnivals, but from a stomach bug at an ice rink. _

Bellamy’s hand was cool on her face when he brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, willing the feeling of nausea to go away. 

“Not great.” 

With her eyes closed, it was even worse. Her head spun as her feet wobbled. She grew desperate for solid ground. 

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice low enough so only she could hear. “Let’s go back to the bench.”

“No,” she mumbled through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to. I’m having fun. I want to have fun.”

She was a horrible liar, and she knew it. Bellamy gave her a look and she knew he could see right through her feeble attempts.

“Clarke, something’s wrong, and—”

A child on skates flew right by her at high speeds, and that was it.

She leaned over the ledge of the rink and promptly threw up.

.

She pouted when Bellamy entered their bedroom, a glass of water and a washcloth in hand. 

“I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

“You didn’t  _ ruin it.  _ You got sick.” Clarke eased into his side as soon as he got into bed. 

“Sick.  _ Me,  _ sick.” She groaned. “ _ It was while skating.  _ I’m a Quidditch player and I got sick trying a sport!” Clarke sunk into her pillow. “I’m a disaster.”

“I got sick the first time I rode a broom,” he said. “There. We’re even.”

There was nothing amusing about his admission, yet she couldn’t help but smile. “You did?” 

“All over Madam Hooch,” Bellamy admitted. “She sent me to the Hospital Wing and I got lost on the way there. I had to ask a Hufflepuff for help.”

She wished that she knew him back then. Clarke couldn’t remember seeing him at her sorting ceremony; there were too many people and too many things happening, and she was so worried about disappointing her mother by not getting Slytherin.

(How things changed.)

She couldn’t remember the first time they saw each other. One day, he was just suddenly in her life, and that was that. They were enemies on the field and in the halls, and all was right with the world.

They said nothing for a while, too content to just be in each other’s arms. She’d never grow tired of this — always having a home beside someone, even when she was sick. 

“You should go back and skate,” she told him after a long moment. “I’m just sick, it’s not like I’m dying. You don’t have to be here.”

“I know I don’t  _ have  _ to, Clarke. I want to be.”

“I’m boring though,” she complained. “I don’t want you to miss something you were excited about just because I got sick.”

“You’re not boring.  _ You’re sick.  _ And we’re spending time together; that’s not boring to me.” He tilted his head forward to rest against the back of her shoulder. “I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re sick and miserable. In sickness and in health, right?”

“We’re not married yet.” 

“Doesn’t matter. Just because we haven’t signed a legal document binding our lives together doesn’t mean I’m going to be a shitty partner.” It was hard not to smile at that word.  _ Partner.  _ “Just let me be with you, okay? Please? I’d be more miserable there than here with you.”

Clarke pulled his arm around her body and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Salazar, you’re amazing. I love you so much.”

“Mm. I love you too.”

Again, they fell silent, and it soothed a growing storm inside of her. While the night was spent curled in bed instead of on their date, Clarke couldn’t help but feel completely content.

* * *

A week after Clarke wrote her N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry, they went out to celebrate.

Murphy wrote his exams too, but he didn’t try and tag along this time. When Clarke and Bellamy left the manor, he was draped across the couch, his head resting in Raven’s lap and a sly smirk on his lips.

“Have fun you two,” he called, waving at them, “but not too much fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“It’s just dinner, Murphy. You’ve had dinner before, right?”

“And  _ only  _ dinner,” Bellamy continued. “That means we’re gone for two hours at the most.  _ Two hours.  _ Please, for the love of all things good, don’t make me rescrub my brain after walking in on you two again. You heard that, Raven?”

“Loud and clear.” She gave him a thumbs up to convince him. “No getting it on in public spaces, we get it.”

“Salazar, it’s like we’re back at Diyoza’s,” Murphy pointed out. There was a long pause after this and a heaviness settled over Clarke’s shoulders. Then, as soon as it appeared, it was gone again. “Don’t worry, we’ll be good little housemates and not scar either of you for life. We’ll be fully clothed when you return.”

“We appreciate that.”

_ She was determined to make this date a success. _

She already cast a warming charm on her coat and a sticking charm to her heels. Murphy and Raven were both busy, so they weren’t going to be tagging along and interrupting them. She had been feeling good all day and the Pepperup Potion she had taken a few hours earlier would ensure she stayed that way.

_ This date was going to work, or Merlin help her, she was going to scream. _

.

Clarke twirled under Bellamy’s outstretched arm, the skirt of her dress and the hem of her coat twirling out around her.

_ There was something so beautiful about the first snow. _

Tiny snowflakes fell from the dark sky above, turning the world hazy and grey. Each one melted as soon as it touched down, making her doubt that there would be any snow left by sunrise, but it was a beautiful picture while it lasted.

They leisurely walked the empty street, basking in the bliss of a first now. Without the luxury of warming charms, Muggles seemed to like to stay off the streets. Clarke wasn’t complaining though, not in the slightest. It felt as though they were in their own world —  _ just the two of them _ . 

_ It was magical. _

“We’re never going to get to the restaurant if we keep—” Clarke let out a shriek as Bellamy spun her again. “Bell, we’re going to lose our reservation.”

“Screw the reservation. I like snow.” He wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her back flush against his chest. He pressed his face against the back of her neck, making a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the chill of the air. “It makes me think of you.”

She grinned, not needing any clarification on that. Snow had brought them a lot of joy when they were on the run together.

A distinct memory came to mind.  _ The two of them dancing in the snow to imaginary music, feeling free, and light, and happy. _

And, another memory.  _ Her back against the bark of the tree, Bellamy’s lips against her skin, his palms kissing fire up her sides. _

As if he could read her mind, Bellamy began pressing lingering kisses to the back of her neck and down her shoulder, igniting a fire in her that contrasted the weather sharply. She couldn’t feel his lips through the layers of clothing, but she wanted to.

_ She wanted to so badly. _

Clarke turned in his grasp and grinned wickedly.

“What?” he breathed, his gaze dropping to her lips and back up. He knew exactly what she was thinking, but he was ever one to play for the chase.  _ “Clarke...” _

A beat, then—

—their lips were on each other. 

Within an instant, their touches turned frantic. The soft warmth that had been filling her body ever since they left the house turned to fire in her veins. When they did part, it wasn’t for long. She searched his eyes, dark and intense, and the corners of her mouth quirked up.

“You think they’ll hold the reservation for us?”

“Definitely.  _ Definitely.” _

They surged back together — teeth tugging, fingers pulling, hearts racing. Before they could get too absorbed in each other, Clarke grasped his wrist and guided him towards the closest dead-end alley. His eyebrows shot up when she pushed him against the brick wall and came to stand between his knees.

_ “Fuck.” _

Her hands ran up his chest, relishing in the way he melted against her touch. The gaze they shared a split second before her lips brushed against his pulse point was charged and filled with a shared desire.

_ “Clarke,”  _ he breathed. She mouthed her way down his neck and his head tilted back, knocking against the brick behind him. His hands felt so good on her sides. “Are we—  _ fuck—  _ are we really doing this?”

She pulled back from him. “Why? Don’t want to?”

“Fuck that.” The kiss that followed was messy and uncoordinated, filled with nipping teeth and bumping noses. She let out a ragged sigh when his fingers dragged up her sides. “I just—  _ we’re in an alley.  _ Anyone could walk by.”

“Dangerous,” she decided, sounding so wrecked from his hands alone. “Isn’t danger sexy?”

His lips brushed against her ear and a shiver shot down her spine. “It would be even sexier if I could kiss you  _ properly  _ without distractions.” With that, he tugged his wand from his pocket and cast a silencing and repelling charm on the entrance to the alley. 

She fisted his curls and brought their mouths together again for a molten kiss. She bit down on his bottom lip and his fingers dug into her hips, bringing their bodies flush together. A sound of disappointment slipped out when he broke the kiss, only for it to turn into a moan as he sucked a bruise onto the column of her throat.

“We can— we can go back home,” she offered, her voice shaking and breathless. Her eyes fluttered closed as he continued to kiss a path across her skin. “Or— or not. Here’s good.”

“Here’s good?”

“Yeah,  _ so good.” _

Deciding it was entirely unfair that he wasn’t currently sagging against the wall in bliss, Clarke gripped his coat and pulled his mouth back to hers. Her hands shook against his chest, and her heart was pounding, and her blood was  _ roaring,  _ and—

When a blue light burst into the alley, they both reacted at the same time. She let out a startled gasp as Bellamy spun her around, stepping in front of her. His whole body had gone rigid and his wand was lifted, ready for an attack, but—

Clarke blinked several times to make sure she was seeing things correctly. Circling several feet in front of them was a misty raven.

_ Murphy’s Patronus. _

A jolt went through her whole body. Dread washed away the heat from only seconds before.

When the bird opened its mouth, Murphy's voice came through.  _ “Emergency. Come home.”  _

Then, the Patronus was gone, and they were left alone in the dark with heaving chests and heavy hearts.

“Shit,” he swore, turning to her. They locked eyes and  _ she felt sick.  _ She hadn’t seen him look like this — terrified, and desperate, and hopeless — in months. _ Not since the war ended.  _ “We have to go.”

She was already moving. A million horrible possibilities were running through her mind. Her magic was coursing through her body, ready to respond at will, honed from the months of training at Kane’s and out of pure need for survival.

_ Her friends were in danger. _

Murphy and Raven — something was wrong, and she  _ needed to get home.  _ She needed to  _ get to them  _ and do what she spent  _ months doing.  _ Protecting, and fighting, and—

Clarke sucked in a calming breath and held her wand, letting the warmth that flowed through it ground her to the moment and ease the shaking of her limbs. Without speaking another word, she held out her arm in Bellamy’s direction.

“Come on.”

He grabbed her hand and they Disapparated home.

The wards around Griffin Manor made it so nobody, not even her, could Apparate inside. Instead, she chose the back garden shed to arrive in — far enough outside the wards, but close enough to a set of brooms. 

Before the world fully formed around her, Clarke thrust her hand in the direction of the brooms along the wall and wandlessly summoned one right to her hand. She was moving automatically, simply going through the motions. Her mind was on Raven and Murphy, and her thoughts were filled with nightmares, and her heart was beating entirely too quickly.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

“Clarke—”

By the time Bellamy grabbed her shoulders, she was already mounted on her broom and ready to take flight.

“No,” she told him hotly. She was thankful for the anger in that moment — feeling anything was better than feeling that  _ panic  _ and  _ worry.  _ “Don’t tell me it’ll be fine, and don’t tell me to slow down, and—”

Bellamy climbed onto the broom behind her. “Fuck that.  _ Go.” _

With his arms firmly around her waist and her back flush against his front, they took off in the direction of the manor. Instinctually, her gaze sought out black cloaks and silver masks, her worst fears driving her movements, but—

_ Nothing. _

The structure was still standing and looked unchanged from when they left only minutes ago, but that did nothing to lessen the dread clawing its way up her throat.  _ They could already be inside, or Murphy and Raven could already be dead, or— _

_ or, or, or. _

She replayed Murphy’s words over and over, desperate to figure them out, desperate to find something that would help wash away these horrible and haunting feelings rising in her. ‘ _ Emergency’  _ was the exact word Murphy used — and it did nothing to comfort her.

He sounded scared. Or pissed off. It was hard to tell, but there was a waver in his voice and it made every instinct in Clarke  _ scream.  _

_ Fuck. She hadn’t felt like this since the war. _

This primal fear she felt made all those feelings come  _ rushing back,  _ and it was like she was right back in it; running, and hiding, and  _ fighting for their lives,  _ fearing that each day was their last, worrying she’d never see the people she loved again.

It wasn’t until this moment that she realized that all those fears and those feelings  _ were still part of her.  _ Even after months of living in what was considered a new and peaceful world, all it took was a  _ hint  _ of a waver in Murphy’s voice for everything to come  _ crashing right back. _

The flight between the gardens and the front foyer was quick. 

Neither one of them spoke. 

Neither one of them  _ dared  _ offer the other words of reassurance because they both knew—

_ Those words would be filled with lies. _

They were familiar with how quick things could go from being okay to  _ not.  _ They knew how quick horrible things could happen and disrupt  _ everything. _

So, they didn’t speak.

_ Bellamy just held her. _

His hand spanned across her ribcage and she knew he could feel the thunderous beat of her heart just below his palm. She couldn’t feel his heart through the layers of winter clothes, but she could  _ feel  _ the heat of his rapid breaths against her neck, and she knew.

_ He was just as scared as she was. _

The landing was rough and nearly knocked the wind out of her. Any other time, she knew Bellamy would’ve made a jest at her poor flying skills and they’d flirt over Quidditch —  _ again  _ — but neither of them could speak past the pounding of their hearts.

She spared a quick glance at Bellamy after their dismount from the broom and noted he had his wand drawn and lifted for an attack, just like hers.

_ It was easy to fall back on instincts.  _

They practiced this more times than she could remember. Fighting beside him was drilled so deep into her mind that she could practically do it in her sleep.

They moved together, slightly out of sync due to the time since the last time they stood shoulder to shoulder. Without needing to speak a word, she knew he was going to take up offense while she held defense.

“Murphy!?” Clarke called, throwing open the front doors and stepping into the foyer. 

Her gaze swept the front foyer and up the grand staircase, looking for any signs of life.  _ Nothing.  _ She strained her ears, hoping to hear  _ something,  _ but there were no sounds of spells cracking or screaming.

It should’ve been a relief.

It wasn’t.

“Raven? Murphy?” When there was no response, she glanced at Bellamy. He flicked his gaze down the long corridor to the left, leading to the wing of the manor they usually occupied. “Sitting room?”

“Let’s start there.”

Together, they began to move towards the sitting room. Her hand was slick against the wood of her wand. Her heart was beating so loud that all she could hear was the rush of blood in her ears and the shakiness to her breaths.

_ She was terrified. _

What it—

_ what if, what if, what if. _

They’d taken less than ten steps before a blue light appeared in the darkened hallway. She jolted and lifted her wand, ready to cast a shield, but faltered when she caught a glimpse of the man behind the wand.

“Murphy!”

He froze in the hallway,  _ staring  _ at both of them, before lowering his wand. “Shit. You scared me.”

Hearing his voice made a wave of relief wash through her. She let out a shaky breath and let her hand fall to her side.

_ “We _ scared  _ you?” _ she asked. “Merlin,  _ you  _ terrified us!”

They met under the grand staircase, a heaviness hanging in the air. She took in his appearance all at once, scanning for injuries. He looked distracted and worried, making her relief short lived. His knuckles were tight around his wand and his fingers were drumming a beat on his thigh, showing just how nervous he was. He must’ve been in a rush earlier because his shirt was barely done up properly and he didn’t wear shoes.

“What’s going on? What happened? You said it was an emergency. Is it Raven?”

“Not Raven,” he told them. He glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the sitting room. “Listen, there’s a situation.”

“We’ve gathered as much.” Bellamy’s hand brushed against her elbow, and she found comfort in the brief contact. “Fill us in. Where’s Raven?”

“She’s with our guests.” His eyes shifted to Clarke’s and his lips pressed firmly together. “He showed up a few minutes ago and I let him in because Robards and a few of his Aurors were with him, but—”

“Who?”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. 

Clarke brushed past him.

“Clarke—” He took off after her. “Clarke,  _ wait.”  _ When she didn’t turn back, he lunged after her and caught her elbow. “Wait. You need to—”

“What happened?” If the Aurors were there, something horrible must’ve happened. Robards was her contact at the Auror department; he was the one to arrange protection details for both her and Murphy when they wanted to go somewhere in the Wizarding public; he was the one to bring them to and from the trials. Her stomach felt empty when she spoke. “It’s Death Eaters, isn’t it? Something happened?” She gripped Murphy’s wrist. “Who’s here?”

“Draco.”

Her heart stopped.

_ Draco Malfoy.  _

Years ago, she would’ve called him a friend. They grew up together; they both attended galas with their mothers; they celebrated birthdays and Christmases together; they were sorted in the same Hogwarts house in the same year; they were raised on the same poisoned stories and beliefs.

They were friends, and then they weren’t. Their friend group drifted apart as the war brewed and, ultimately, they found themselves on opposite ends of the battlefield.

_ Except for last May. _

They stood on the same side then, even if they were there for very different reasons.

The Battle of Hogwarts was the last time she saw him, other than the few times they crossed paths at the Death Eater trials.

Murphy continued speaking. “Malfoy showed up with Aurors by Floo. Robards said it was an emergency, but he won’t say anything without you present. He was about to send out a team to  _ find you  _ and  _ bring you home.” _

“And Malfoy? He’s…  _ here?” _

“In his lil jammies,” he confirmed. He glanced back towards the sitting room, growing more agitated. “Listen, we need to go. Raven’s in there alone and—”

Bellamy was moving before he finished speaking. 

Murphy kept a hold on Clarke’s elbow as they followed after him. She could feel how tense he was. Whatever she was feeling, he felt it too. After all, they were part of that same group at Hogwarts. 

“Wait.” He tugged her to a stop a few paces outside of the sitting room. His eyes swept quickly across her and his frown deepened. “Might want to make yourself decent, Griffin. There’s a lot of people in there.”

She tugged down the hem of her dress, which had ridden up from their quick broom ride, and flattened her hair. Murphy flashed her a quick thumbs up before they walked into the sitting room together.

Just as she was promised, Malfoy and Robards stood near the fireplace, their clothing covered in stray pieces of soot from the Floo. The first thing she noticed was how stiff and uncomfortable Malfoy looked; his hands were buried deep in his pockets, his shoulders were set with determination, and his expression was stony. 

Seeing him back in her childhood home made a wave of nostalgia wash upon her — although, that nostalgia wasn’t entirely good. It was a fresh reminder of all the ghosts living in the Griffin Manor walls.

_ She couldn’t wait to get out. _

Before they could lock eyes, she shifted her gaze to Raven, who had her wand out and pointed at the floor, then Bellamy, who was whispering something in the other girl’s ear. Both looked just as uncomfortable as Malfoy.

“Good.” Robards stepped forward. He didn’t look too happy — although, did he ever look happy? “You’ve finally returned home, Miss Griffin… where I thought we discussed you should remain.”

“I was out.” She came to stand beside Bellamy, needing his strength for whatever shit show was about to go down. “You said I couldn’t go to Wizarding communities without contacting you; I haven’t. I went to Muggle London for the evening.”

His frown deepened. “You realize this is all for your own protection, don’t you, Miss Griffin? You’ve been asked to remain indoors for your own safety.”

_ Already, she was sick of playing these games.  _

“I thank you for your concern, Robards, but I was safe enough tonight. And it’s  _ Madam  _ Griffin. I am the head of my house now.”

The Head Auror grit his teeth. “Quite right,  _ Madam  _ Griffin. My apologies.”

Clarke took another look in Malfoy’s direction. She couldn’t get a read on him — they were simply two strangers who once knew each other. 

It frustrated her.

“What’s going on?” she pressed, turning back to the Auror. “Is it something with the trials?”

Robards glanced back at the blond wizard behind him, who gave him a solid nod. “Malfoy Manor was attacked earlier this evening.”

Clarke’s heart plummeted. “Death Eaters?”

“We believe so, yes. Mr. Malfoy reported five of them in his ancestral home. There was a brief altercation in the personal wing of the manor, but—”

Malfoy scoffed. “Brief altercation? Those bastards tried to  _ kill me in my sleep.” _

She was torn between fear and anger. 

_ She settled on anger —  _ white and hot and  _ burning  _ in her veins.

“Malfoy’s being targeted, so you brought him here? To  _ my home?  _ Putting my family in danger?” She took a step forward, her gaze burning and her heart pounding. “Get out.”

Malfoy looked annoyed. “Griffin—”

“No! Get out. I don’t want anything to do with you, and I don’t want you bringing Death Eaters  _ to my home.  _ This is  _ your  _ problem and I don’t want anything to do with it. Go—”

“Malfoy Manor was attacked by Death Eaters, and there’s a chance Griffin Manor might follow,” Robards said, and that was all it took for the words to die in Clarke’s mouth. “You three, including Mr. Murphy, are involved with the incarceration of the remaining Death Eaters. The protection wards on your manor are significantly stronger than the one’s on Mr. Malfoy’s, so the chances of any attacks here are minimal. I’ve already begun the process of stationing Aurors outside your property for your comfort. All we ask is to grant Mr. Malfoy a room here so we can centralize and streamline our protection detail. Alright? Can we do that? Can we accommodate Mr. Malfoy in this…  _ very large…  _ and very  _ empty  _ manor?”

“No,” Murphy said immediately. “Absolutely fucking not. This is being repurposed as a safe house for  _ innocent children,  _ alright? There’s nothing innocent about this man.”

“And you call yourself innocent?” Malfoy countered. His sharp gaze came to rest on her. “You too, Griffin? You’re both having fun playing the part of saints?”

“We’re considered saints when compared to you,” Murphy countered. “We are—”

“Enough,” Robards snapped. “We don’t have time for this. Madam Griffin, as you so  _ kindly  _ reminded me earlier, you are the head of your house. The decision is yours to make.” 

She glanced at the three behind her, gauging their expressions. She caught Bellamy’s eye.

“It’s your call,” he said, and Raven nodded in agreement. Murphy’s eyes flicked to hers after a beat and he nodded stiffly.

Robards cleared his throat. “If you choose to send Mr. Malfoy away, then I’m afraid our resources are spread too thin.”

Her hands curled into fists.

“So, what? You’re saying that you’d pull the Aurors stationed here if I kick him out?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” he confirmed. The Auror looked more annoyed than anything. “Out of the three of you, Mr. Malfoy is in the most immediate danger, as he was the one targeted tonight. He’d be our priority.”

“And we’d be left without any protection?” Her nails bit the inside of her palm. She really wanted to punch something. “You’re telling me that I either allow Malfoy to stay in the manor, or we’re left unprotected when there are  _ Death Eaters  _ out there possibly  _ targeting  _ us.” 

Robards said nothing. 

Clarke ground her teeth together. The choice was an obvious one, even if she hated it. She wasn’t going to let her emotions get in the way of protecting the people she loved. 

“Then I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I? Malfoy can stay.”

“He won’t be here for long,” the Auror assured her, “just until we can erect stronger wards on his property. Maybe a few days at most.”

Any hope of making their reservation had died as soon as she saw Murphy’s Patronus and, now with  _ Draco fucking Malfoy  _ staying in her home, the last thing she wanted to do was leave for something as trivial as a  _ date. _

She tried to ignore the rising annoyance and frustration in her, but  _ really,  _ was this war ever going to fucking end?

* * *

A week later, Malfoy was still living in the far wing of the manor, and none of them had slept since.

Clarke laid on her side and watched the steady crackle of the fire across the room. The flickering flames cast long shadows on the walls, causing her heart to jump each time it shifted. Ever since their  _ guest _ arrived, she was back to whipping out her wand whenever there was an unexpected noise, always ready and waiting for an attack.

_ And she was miserable. _

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact she spent each night on the floor of their favourite sitting room, or —  _ better yet _ — maybe it was because they were  _ once again  _ being targeted by desperate Death Eaters.

It didn’t matter.

She was miserable and exhausted and  _ wanted all of this to end. _

She knew the end of the Death Eater trials would mark the pivot point for their lives. Without the on-going trials, they’d be out of the news, and  _ finally  _ they could find a new normal to their lives. 

The end of the trials was set for a few months away.

_ Just a few more months of this weird, convoluted, liminal space. _

And then—

Then, they’d focus on  _ life.  _ They’d have the manor open to Hogwarts students by summer, and they’d finally start wedding planning, and  _ they could leave behind this limbo of a world. _

It was with a bitterness that she thought  _ maybe  _ they’d finally be able to go on a date then, too.

Clarke blew out a long breath and turned around in Bellamy’s grasp. With the firelight, it looked as though his eyes housed hundreds of galaxies. 

_ He looked ethereal. _

His cheek dimpled with a smile and he pushed her hair behind her ear. His casual touches eased some of the heaviness to her heart, but it wasn’t enough to make her feel  _ free. _

“How much longer do you think this will go on for?” she whispered, mindful not to bother Raven and Murphy on the couches only a few feet away. She could hear them whispering in low tones.

“You can try to sleep,” he told her, his chest rumbling under her palms. “I’ll stay up.”

“No, not that. I meant the war.” His hand stilled on her side. She could feel his body shift as tension bled in. “I know they say the war is over, but… I don’t think I’ll ever feel like it’s over until all the trials are done.  _ And even then—  _ what next? Malfoy Manor just proves there are people out there  _ organizing themselves  _ and—”

“Yeah, Murphy quipped, startling her. She didn’t know he was listening. “That is  _ if  _ the ferret is telling the truth. I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Raven agreed. “I don’t like that he’s here… He could’ve easily lied about seeing Death Eaters in his home.”

“I don’t like the guy, but why would he do that?” she pressed. “He’s in the same position as Murphy and I. It isn’t impossible that—”

“We  _ think  _ he’s in the same position as you,” Raven corrected. Light caught her eye as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “We don’t  _ know.  _ He might be lying to get  _ here,  _ to get to  _ either one of you.” _

“Didn’t know I was such a hot piece of merchandise,” Murphy commented dryly. She sent him a dirty look. “I’m just saying… If he went through  _ all of that  _ just so he could get in the manor and kill us? Props to him. Hell, he put in that much work, he  _ deserves  _ to pull off this stunt.”

“Murphy—”

“I’m kidding!”

“No,” Clarke decided. “He was at Hogwarts during the battle. I saw him in the Great Hall afterwards with the Greengrass sisters. After the dungeons, Daphne said she was going into the battle to find her sister. Her sister would’ve left the castle if she was on Voldemort’s side, so clearly she supports Potter. Malfoy was with them. He… He must’ve defected, just like we did.”

“Or he’s playing the long game.”

Clarke gave Murphy a sideways glance. “He’s been involved with the Death Eater trials, too.”

He scoffed. “You’re not seriously defending him right now?”

“No. I’m just saying he could be telling the truth. He can go to hell for all I care, I don’t want anything to do with him.” It was hard to settle back into Bellamy’s arms. “I’m just… I want all of this to be  _ done.  _ The war’s been over for seven months. The trials are going on  _ forever.  _ Death Eaters are still out there and they’re  _ organized.  _ It just feels like this is going to go on forever and we’re just  _ stuck  _ sitting at home doing nothing…  _ again, _ just like last time.”

Bellamy pressed a soothing kiss to her hair. “The Aurors want you to stay at home. It’s nothing like the war.”

“It is,” she argued. “It  _ feels  _ like it.” 

She sighed, feeling utterly defeated. 

_ She was defeated.  _ Her, Murphy and Malfoy weren’t the only ones being targeted by the remaining Voldemort supporters; Muggleborns, and half-bloods, and other so-called blood traitors were in danger, too. While the supporters of Voldemort didn’t have the same power, organization, and resources as they did before the Battle of Hogwarts, the fact that even  _ one _ was still out there meant they’d be in danger.

She didn’t want the remaining Death Eater all to be thrown in Azkaban just so she could feel safe —  _ no  _ — she wanted that so  _ everyone else  _ could be safe too, and so their victims and their families could finally get closure.

Bellamy must’ve sensed just how exhausted she was. He pulled her to his chest again, encasing her with warmth.

“I’m miserable,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I hate this. I hate feeling like this.”

“I know.”

She blew out a long breath. “I feel like we’re putting off so much because of everything,  _ and I understand why.  _ I get it. I do, but… that doesn’t mean I have to like it, and that doesn’t mean I can’t wish I could change it. But I just hate how so much is being put off because of the trials; the safe house opening, us finding  _ real jobs,  _ our dates,  _ our wedding.” _

Maybe it was petty and selfish, but she hated it.

His lips lingered when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I hate it too,” he told her. “But, you know what, let’s not put it off anymore. Tomorrow, we’re getting that date. It’s just going to be you, and me, and something Muggle.”

She wanted to say yes.

_ She really freaking wanted to. _

But she couldn’t.

“I can’t leave when Malfoy’s here,” she said. “Leaving with him in our home is like asking for things to go to shit.”

“Murphy and Raven will be here to make sure things are handled.”

“And what about Robards? He made it clear that going  _ anywhere,  _ even if it is Muggle London, isn’t allowed.”

Bellamy looked amused. “Do you  _ hear  _ yourself?  _ Come on.  _ Rules are for losers, Clarke. We ask for forgiveness, not permission.” He looked excited. “Besides, I have an idea. It’ll be fun.”

And, really, why was she fighting anyway? When had she ever been the one to follow the rules? She  _ really freaking wanted _ to go on a date with Bellamy — screw the Death Eaters trying to kill them, screw Malfoy’s annoying presence, screw Robards and his rules.

She let out a breathless laugh. “Salazar, when did you become such a Slytherin — willing to break the rules?”

“When did you become such a Gryffindor — willing to do something  _ rash  _ and  _ not entirely smart,  _ just because we want to?”

It was true. The older she got and the more time she spent with him, the more blurred the lines between the houses became.

“Tomorrow will be fun,” he promised her.

Clarke felt giddy. 

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

_ It was a date. _

.

Bit by bit, the world came into focus.

The first thing that struck her was the  _ smell.  _ It was clean, yet it reminded her of Griffin Manor’s library in other ways.

She blinked a few times, but her eyes never adjusted. Wherever they Apparated to was nearly pitch black. 

_ They were surrounded by darkness. _

Even the ground she stood on seemed bottomless. She could feel the soles of her shoes against  _ something,  _ but saw emptiness when she looked down.

Clarke could tell they stood in a room of sorts, and a large room at that. The squeak of her shoe against the ground echoed around them. In the distance, she could hear the faint tick of a clock and the slight buzz of a heater.

“Bellamy,” she said simply, “this isn’t the restaurant you told me about.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “So,” he began, “I might have lied.”

“No shit.” 

The only thing keeping her from feeling like she was flying was his hand in hers. The longer they stood together and the more she blinked, pieces of the room came into focus. A few paces in front of them stood a tall and shadowy figure. Her hand shot to her wand before she realized the figure stood unmoving. The wall directly behind them was a deep red — a shade that reminded her of the Gryffindor house rather than the sunset. And the floor under foot, it was made from something so shiny that it could’ve been a mirror, reflecting the vastness of the tall ceilings above them.

She let out an awed sound at it all.

“Where are we?”

Bellamy cast a spell, sending light pouring across the room. Her gaze shot from item to item — from wall to wall — trying to take it in all at once.

“Welcome to the National Gallery.”

She didn’t know when she dropped his hand or stepped away from his side, but she moved without him towards the figure she spotted earlier. The light from Bellamy’s wand reflected off the inky stone and she saw herself in its reflection.

_ It wasn’t a figure.  _

It was a sculpture.

A man on a horse in full armour was carved from black stone; similar in shape to the statues that guarded Hogwarts, yet crafted with a hand that clearly focused on detail. 

Her gaze darted to the next figure in the distance — another knight carved from obsidian on horseback. And, further down the row, there was a woman holding a sword carved from that same substance. The light from Bellamy’s wand only reached those first three, but she could see outlines of a handful other statues down the row.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke admitted. “What is this place?”

“Muggles have what are called galleries. It’s where they display art for the public.” 

She glanced around the room again. “It’s beautiful.” 

Her gaze was drawn to the portraits on the walls of the galleries. These portraits didn’t seem much different than ones in the Wizarding world; the only difference being the fact that they weren’t charmed to be animated.

When she turned to look at Bellamy, he was staring openly at her with so much adoration and  _ love. _ Butterflies rose in her stomach and warmth flooded her chest.

“I know you haven’t seen Muggle art before, and I wanted to show you. This place houses some of the most well-loved pieces of art in the Muggle world and we have it  _ all to ourselves.  _ No crowds, no time limits,  _ no worries.”  _ His expression softened. “I’ve been wanting to take you here for months, ever since we first came to Muggle London, but the timing was never right. But what you said yesterday... it made me realize that there isn’t going to be a  _ right _ time; things are always going to get in the way. I didn’t want to keep putting this off. I don’t want to keep putting  _ us  _ off.

“Forget all the rules from Robards, and forget everything going on; the trials, the Death Eaters, the rebuilding of the world.  _ We can’t control any of that.  _ We’ll ride it out like a storm — together. And we’ll focus on the things we  _ can  _ control. Like  _ this;  _ like breaking into Muggle art galleries in the middle of the night, and  _ telling our friends  _ when we want to be alone on dates, and living our life even when the world is in stasis and chaos. No more waiting.”

Clarke collided with him, knocking him backwards a few steps.  _ Merlin,  _ she didn’t know why she felt like she was seconds away from sobbing, but she was barely able to breathe past the lump in her throat.

“No more waiting,” she confirmed.

When they pulled away from each other, he took her hand and laced their fingers together. She looked at him and something inside her clicked back into place.

_ He always knew exactly what to say to make it easier to breathe. _

It was as if he could read her mind. All the worries on her mind and the heaviness in her heart — he made it feel like it was going to be  _ okay  _ because it was shared with him.

“Thank you,” she said. “This place is beautiful.”

Bellamy’s face broke into a grin at that. “I came here on a field trip in primary school and  _ loved  _ it.  _ And  _ — get this — they have an exhibit on Classical mythology right now. Don’t worry, I brought  _ the Iliad _ with me just in case, and—”

As he launched into a long explanation of the gallery, filled with enthusiastic references to specific art pieces housed in the building, she couldn’t stop  _ staring  _ at him. His words echoed in her ears.

_ No more waiting.  _

Whatever the hell came next — in the trials, with the resurgence of attacks, with the gossip from Skeeter — they were going to do it together, as it was always meant to be.

_ They were going to get through this together. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Jen ([eyessharpweaponshot](https://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com) on Tumblr) for pre-reading parts of this fic and for encouraging me to keep going, even when I was tempted to delete over 5000 words right at the end!!! You’re a true one and ily.
> 
> Also, the movie that Clarke, Bellamy and Murphy went to see is Practical Magic. It came out in October 1998 - perfect timing for this fic!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and dipping your toes back into this world with me. I've missed it!!
> 
> **A huge thank you to everyone who has nominated and voted for Paint me in Trust in the[Bellarke Fic Writer Awards](https://bellarkeficawards.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. I won't list all the categories here because there were 17 of them!!! But just know I'm super thankful that so many of you loved and continue to love pmit.**
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always.
> 
> Paw  
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://pawprinterfanfic.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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